


Born to Change History

by Hufflehobbit_writes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: But it's offscreen, Developing Relationship, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Phichit is very entertained, References to mental health issues of varying sorts, References to offscreen minor character deaths, Sochi GPF, Sorry physics reseachers, Sort Of, Teen rating for innuendo and language, Time Travel, Viktor learned to communicate, What-If, Yuuri is very confused, i'm still sorry, this uses Hollywood science, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-28 09:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflehobbit_writes/pseuds/Hufflehobbit_writes
Summary: "Well, I never was very good at subtlety." Viktor straightened up into perfect, formal posture and looked Yuuri directly in the eye. "I should reintroduce myself. My name is Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, and I've come back in time to save your life."





	Born to Change History

**Author's Note:**

> There are some excellent YoI time travel AU fics out there, but most of them involve either the whole skate family or just Yuuri. This fic grew out of the question of what would happen if we had older!Viktor-- who's presumably learned at least a *little* about interacting with people over the years, particularly Yuuri-- and Sochi!Yuuri instead. Also, the fact that I like my AUs to have coherent explanations whenever possible.
> 
> I don't have a good way to test alt-text; if you're set up to use it, I would *love* it if you would leave a comment telling me whether the text-message conversation makes sense. Thanks!

As Yuuri sat on the locker room bench, pulling his headphones out of his pocket in preparation for his pre-competition stretches, he felt eyes on him and looked up.

Viktor Nikiforov stared back at him. 

Yuuri's idol stood still on the other side of the locker room, silver hair shining beautifully even under the ugly flourescent lighting, hands deep in the pockets of his red-and-white jacket, head turned towards Yuuri, eyes wide with... recognition? No, that couldn't be. Surprise, perhaps. Horror. Oh, no, was this one of Yuuri's nightmares in which he was in his worn flannel Pokemon pajamas instead of his costume? Yuuri tore his eyes away from Viktor's blue gaze and looked down at himself in terror. Clothes on, check. Competition costume and team jacket, check. Not on backwards, check. No obvious stains, tears, or awkwardly open zippers. No toilet paper stuck to pants or shoes. Was there something on his face? In his teeth? Yuuri patted his face frantically, feeling for crumbs or stains left from lunch. Still nothing, and his eyes flicked nervously back up to Viktor, who was... yes, still staring at him, apparently not having moved at all during Yuuri's hurried self-examination. Oh dear.

"Vitya!" came a sharp call from the hallway, followed by a string of annoyed-sounding Russian. Viktor started suddenly, and his stiff posture abruptly softened, face relaxing into a smile. He gave Yuuri a a quick wave and a thumbs-up, and then turned to follow his clearly-impatient coach, leaving Yuuri staring confusedly at his departing figure.

**Viktor Nikiforov** had looked at Yuuri. Had waved at Yuuri. Had given Yuuri a thumbs-up.

Had... recognized Yuuri?

Yuuri dropped his head into his hands. Viktor Nikiforov knew who he was. Or at least what he looked like. He wasn't going to get the chance to prove himself on the ice before introducing himself, Viktor would be paying attention to his scores even if they were terrible. Viktor might even be **watching** him! Today was the day Viktor noticed him, for better or for worse; there would be no second chances. Today, when Vicchan's illness had unexpectedly worsened and his family had had to put Yuuri's beloved dog down, when Yuuri had been sleeping poorly from the stress and binge-eating for a month in a failed attempt to make up for the strain and sleep loss. Today, when Yuuri was at his worst. Yuuri could feel his breathing speed up and his chest tighten as his anxiety kicked in.

"Yuuri! What's wrong?" Celestino's booming voice gave Yuuri just enough warning to not startle as his coach's hand landed with surprising gentleness on his shoulder. Yuuri swallowed and took a couple of deep breaths before shrugging and forcing out an answer.

"Nothing. Just the usual. And, uh. Viktor."

"Viktor? Why Viktor?"

"He gave me a thumbs up, and now I'm worried I'm going to fail miserably and disappoint him, too."

Celestino sighed and sat down next to Yuuri, patting him awkwardly on the back. "You won't disappoint anyone, Yuuri. You made it to the finals! No matter what happens, you can be proud of that. It's a high-pressure environment, but once you've made it once, you've got a good chance of making it again. And there's a reason Viktor has a reputation as being one of the friendliest competitors in skating, you have nothing to worry about. Just skate your best and be proud of how far you've come."

_Even your coach thinks you won't succeed here. He's already preparing you for failure._ Yuuri groaned internally but nodded and plastered a fake smile on his face, getting up and moving immediately into stretches in an attempt to cut short any more 'helpful' commentary. He wasn't sure whether to take Celestino's cheerful departure as a sign that Yuuri's attempt at deception had been successful, or just that even his coach didn't really care and was going through the motions. _Stop that. You know better. He's just trying to help. For all the good it does._

On the bright side, the question of why, exactly, Viktor of all people might be paying attention to **him**\-- Yuuri Katsuki, dime-a-dozen skater, here in Sochi at his first Grand Prix Final because he'd gotten lucky and had a couple of unexpectedly good skates in the preliminaries-- was a remarkably effective distraction from the spiral of grief and guilt Vicchan's untimely death had caused. All of Yuuri's poodle-decorated gear, normally reassuring and anxiety-reducing, were suddenly sources of stress; but if there was one topic that could distract him from Vicchan, it was the toy poodle's namesake.

He'd been struggling to believe he had any chance to win, or even podium, with everything going on. But that didn't matter anymore. Today, Yuuri would skate for an audience of one, and pray that some fraction of his <s>love</s> gratitude for and inspiration from Viktor would come through.

\---------

"Yuuri!" Yuuri glanced up from his exhausted march across the hotel lobby to the elevator to discover that, once again, he had somehow attracted Viktor Nikiforov's attention. This time, however, he was actually **waving**. And **approaching Yuuri**. While **smiling**. Yuuri froze, uncertain of how to respond to his idol's unexpected greeting. Celestino, all too aware of Yuuri's hero-worship, stood grinning next to him instead of continuing onwards and giving Yuuri a convenient excuse to run.

"Yuuri! I loved your program today! I mean, your jumps need work, and you can totally do better, but your artistry was just beautiful, well above what you've done for the rest of this season. It was for me, wasn't it? I'm so touched! But you looked so stressed earlier, and I thought that what you clearly need is a nice relaxing dinner. Conveniently, I know a place not too far from here that I think you'll like, very good food in servings light enough to not upset a nervous stomach. You'll join me, right?"

Yuuri blinked at the sudden onslaught of words. Had **Viktor Nikiforov** just invited him to dinner? Him? Yuuri? Who hadn't even managed to come within twenty points of Viktor's spectacular short program score? Why? 

His confused introspection was interrupted by a cheerful thump of Celestino's hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "Of course he will. Isn't that right, Yuuri? I'll take your bag upstairs so you don't have to worry about it, have a wonderful time." Yuuri's desperate pleading look of 'don't leave me alone here!' didn't even make a dent in Celestino's wide grin, and before Yuuri knew what was happening he found himself being steered out of the hotel again, Viktor's arm over his shoulders. There had probably been some more words in there somewhere, but Yuuri's brain had shut down at the point that Viktor was actually **touching him**, in something that his poorly-suppressed internal fanboy kept wanting to interpret as an **embrace**.

"I'm confident you'll like this place," Viktor was saying when Yuuri finally regained the ability to notice the world around him. "It's good solid Russian comfort food, but with a modern twist and served in small enough portions and with enough vegetables to make up for how rich the base dishes are. Excellent for stress. Oh, have you had a chance to walk around the area much yet? There's some lovely stuff left over from the Olympics, obviously nothing with any particular emotional or historical significance but I find that a nice stroll past the fountains makes for a nice break from skating if you need some fresh air."

"Um.... thanks?"

Viktor's face lit up with a smile, looking nothing at all like the classic Nikiforov smiles that Yuuri had memorized from interviews and videos and publicity posters. It was smaller, and yet somehow much brighter. If Yuuri didn't know better, he'd have said it was happier \-- but why would taking a walk with a second-rate Japanese skater make Viktor Nikiforov happy? Yuuri was clearly reading too much into things.

"Ah, there you are, Yuuri! I was wondering when you'd come back down to Earth." Viktor's tone was light and teasing, but not at all unfriendly; there was not a hint of the contempt or judgment Yuuri would have expected in his voice. The judgment Yuuri had more than earned-- his idol had been talking and he hadn't even been listening properly! Yuuri's face flushed in embarrassment and he looked down at his feet. 

"Oh, no, Yuuri! I'm sorry, I was just teasing. Really, it's OK. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. And believe me, if there's one thing I know about myself, it's that I talk too much. You're hardly missing out. And if you do, no worries, I can always tell you whatever it was again later."

"...Later?" Yuuri didn't understand. Viktor Nikiforov was implying that he planned to talk to Yuuri **again** in the future? When Yuuri hadn't even managed a single coherent sentence in his presence?

"Well, I hope this isn't the last chance we get to talk!" Despite the cheerful tone, there was something off in Viktor's voice that Yuuri couldn't identify. "I very much hope to get to know you better. And I know you're under a lot of stress right now, so I'm certainly not going to judge. Which reminds me, I am so, so sorry about your dog." Viktor's smile fell off as he glanced down at Yuuri somberly, looking almost heartbroken himself. "I know how you must have cared about him. When Ma...my dog died, it threw me off for months. I'm amazed that you've managed to skate at all, let alone as well as you have. I don't think I could have."

Yuuri swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and ducked his head. "Thanks. He was a good dog. I just wish I'd been there for him." They walked along in contemplative silence for a moment before a thought struck Yuuri. "Um. How... did you know my dog died?"

Viktor blinked at him and then looked... guilty? "I must have overheard someone talking about it. Celestino, maybe?"

"But I didn't tell Celestino. I didn't tell anyone here... I can't imagine who would have been talking about it." Had Mari gone behind his back? He wouldn't think so, but maybe if she was worried enough. He shoved any burning resentment-- his grief was his own to deal with, not hers, she didn't need to decide who needed to know -- the thought generated to the back of his mind to deal with later.

"You didn't tell **anyone**? Not even your **coach**?" Viktor stared in horror at him, although Yuuri really didn't understand why Viktor would think that maintaining a little personal privacy was so significant. "But your coach's job is to make sure you're ready to do your best on the ice, both physically and mentally! How could he do that when you're not telling him something so important? No wonder he's coaching you so badly! Yuuri, I know you hate opening up, but this sort of thing is important!" Yuuri blinked, bewildered by the sudden and unexpected passion.

"But... it's just a pet? And my personal life? I shouldn't be letting it get in the way of my skating. If I were any good, I wouldn't..."

Viktor stopped walking abruptly, and took advantage of Yuuri's ongoing momentum to swing him around util the two stood face to face. Long, thin fingers, stronger than they looked, gently but firmly lifted Yuuri's chin until he had no choice but to stare into Viktor's blue, blue eyes... This close, he could see there was a vivid sea green in them, too, that didn't come through in the photographs. As though Viktor wasn't beautiful enough to begin with. 

"Katsuki Yuuri. You are one of the top six skaters in the world. You did **not** get here on a fluke, and you are **not** less of a skater for having human emotions. Those emotions are not your weakness, they are your strength. You are the most inspiring skater I have ever watched, and when you skate with your heart on your sleeve as you did today, **no one** can say you don't deserve all of the accolades you've won and more."

"But I--" Yuuri's sentence was cut off abruptly by Viktor's finger across his lips. (Viktor's **finger**. Touching. Yuuri's. Lips. A little voice in Yuuri's head was repeating this over and over in slight hysteria, and it was all Yuuri could do to pay some kind of attention to Viktor's words and not just that **finger**....) Viktor's gaze was fierce, and Yuuri couldn't look away if he'd wanted to.

"You worry so much about being a second-rate skater, and that's one of the biggest loads of nonsense I've ever heard. Your jumps need a lot of work, sure, and your program composition is weak, but that's a coaching and choreography problem. You know as well as I do, even if you won't admit it, that your step sequences are even better than mine, and your spins arguably are too. You have the potential to be the best skater of our generation, myself included. With the right coach, someone who would challenge you instead of playing directly into your doubts by toning your program difficulty down at the worst possible times, someone who **believed** in you? You would break my world records, I have no doubt whatsoever."

Yuuri just back stared at Viktor's (oh-so-entrancing) eyes in silence. Viktor's tone had been utterly serious, with not a trace of his earlier lighthearted banter. Yuuri didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure he even knew what words were right then. Viktor thought **he**\-- Yuuri, the late bloomer, Yuuri who was known for collapsing under stress and occasionally failing miserably for no reason at all, Yuuri who was here at the Grand Prix Finals through sheer luck and stubbornness, Yuuri who even **Celestino** didn't believe in-- could break Viktor's world records. It didn't make sense. It didn't even **begin** to make sense.

What had they been talking about before the world turned upside-down and Yuuri started hallucinating?

"Dinner!" Yuuri finally managed to choke out, pulling away from Viktor's touch abruptly and starting to walk in the direction they had been going. After a moment, Viktor caught up, smiling cheerfully.

"Glad to see you know where we're going too!" Yuuri felt himself go bright red with embarrassment. _Viktor thinks I'm an idiot, he knows I don't know where we're going. He's going to think I'm weird and awkward and-_

Yuuri's increasingly-anxious spiral was interrupted abruptly by a gentle nudge in the side. He looked over (and up, the differences in their heights feeling much larger when they were so close) at Viktor in confusion; the confusion did not in any way decrease when he saw the look Viktor was giving him. If he'd been looking at an actor, he'd have assumed it was meant to be tender, but why on earth would Viktor ever be looking at **him**, Yuuri, **tenderly**? _When you've proved yourself to him and he's admiring you next to him on the podium, right before he kisses you_, Yuuri's traitorous fantasies contributed, but since that was **clearly** not relevant right now he pushed the thought away. He was misinterpreting. It was a gentle look. Viktor was being gentle with Yuuri, because he'd figured out that Yuuri was fragile. _Broken._ That must be it.

"Relax, Yuuri. Really, it's OK. I'm sorry, I like teasing, it's a bad habit. You don't need to be embarrassed. In fact, you can tease right back if you want. Ah, here we are!" Viktor stopped at the recessed wooden door of a restaurant, and took advantage of his long reach to open it for Yuuri. _He's just being polite, don't read anything into it,_ Yuuri's brain helpfully told him, which of course just made him think of all of the other ways to read the **not romantic at all** gesture. How he was going to survive an entire **dinner** with Viktor (_Did we mention you're having **dinner** with **Viktor Nikiforov**? The man you've basically worshipped since you were twelve? Have you thought enough about that in the last two minutes? Maybe you should think about that a little more,_ whispered his unhelpful brain) Yuuri had no idea.

The restaurant was minimalist and modern; dark wood and brushed steel and lots of right angles everywhere. The extremely polite (at least, based on body language and tone of voice, they were speaking far too quickly for Yuuri's self-taught smattering of Russian to matter) waiter even took their coats, which Yuuri's hospitality-industry-trained brain helpfully noted was a behavior usually associated with expensive restaurants. Or maybe Russian ones, given the climate? Although Sochi was hardly Siberia... Yuuri was starting to dread the moment that he'd have to look at the bill and pretend that he was as well off as Viktor. He could see an awful lot of instant ramen in his future. _But it will be worth it to have dinner with **Viktor**. He'll forget you and whatever whim had him invite you as soon as the final is over, but you'll have the memories forever. That's worth years of instant ramen._ Viktor surely wouldn't take him to one of those Michelin 3-star places with hundred-thousand-yen meals without warning, right?

The menus sitting at the (_romantic, candle-lit_) table for two had prices, at least, which was a promising sign that Yuuri wouldn't be living cheap for the rest of his life, but was less helpful than it might have been given that Yuuri's anxiety-ridden brain had entirely dropped his handwavy estimate of ruble exchange rates in favor of a quiet chorus of _ViktorViktorViktor_ looping constantly in the back of his head. It was also, unsurprisingly, in Russian, and Yuuri's high school-era Internet tutorials were definitely not sufficient for the challenge. He stared down at the menu, which at least made a good excuse not to look up at the (_extremely handsome_) Russian sitting across from him. 

"Hmm..." The downright melodic noise made Yuuri glance up, which was a mistake; Viktor had one finger on his lips in thought, and it just made Yuuri's hindbrain want to do things with those lips. Or that finger. Back to the incomprehensible menu it was. At least he could be fairly certain which section was the entrees by the relative prices, so he wouldn't humiliate himself by ordering dessert or a cocktail for dinner. He'd just pick the cheapest one. "I'm thinking about the stroganoff or the syrniki myself, how about you? The kotlety seem right up your alley." Yuuri had at least **heard** of stroganoff, unlike the rest of that quickly-forgotten list. Although he didn't think he liked it much, if the university cafeteria version was remotely accurate.

"Um." Now **there** was a helpful, intelligent response sure to impress Viktor! _Good going, Yuuri! You can't even manage one sentence in response to a simple question._ This did, at least, get Viktor's attention, and he froze, eyes wide, before... blushing? _Oh no, he looks downright **adorable** when he's blushing, this is bad, this is very bad..._

"Oh, no! I forgot you don't speak Russian ye- I'm so sorry, Yuuri!" _Nicely done, you've already disappointed him._

Yuuri waved his hands frantically in objection. "No, no! I'm fine! It's fine! I'll just-"

Viktor didn't wait for the end of Yuuri's stammering reply, which was good since he didn't actually know where it was going. "Would you rather I translate everything, or pick something for you? I don't mind either way, I promise, it's no trouble!" Viktor sounded genuinely distressed, which puzzled Yuuri; but then, Viktor was known for being kind to his fans and fellow skaters. 

"Um. Whatever you recommend? Is good?"

Viktor frowned down at his menu. "Hm. The kotlety, then, I think. Not quite katsudon, I'm afraid, but I think they'll be good comfort food anyway. You'll like them. They make them a bit rich, here, but they come with plenty of veggies, so Celestino won't be grumpy about your diet, don't worry."

Viktor liked katsudon enough to consider it a comfort food? It gave Yuuri a warm fuzzy feeling, to know his idol liked his favorite food that much. He hadn't known Viktor was particularly fond of Japanese food, but it's not as though interviewers asked "what's your seventh-favorite food?" or the like very often. "That sounds good. Thank you."

_Two whole, calm, deliberate sentences! That's progress, right? Even if the longest one was three whole words._ Yuuri's inner Phichit was doing its best to look at the bright side of the situation, but it wasn't winning. _Woohoo. Very impressive. Maybe you'll have managed to work your way up to expressing an actual independent thought by the end of the night._ At least Viktor was smiling again, although his cheeks still glowed just a little pink in a way that Yuuri couldn't help but love. Then again, did Viktor ever not look amazing?

The waiter came by to check on them, and Viktor ordered in a flurry of Russian. There was a long pause after that, in which Viktor seemed content to just smile quietly while looking at Yuuri, and Yuuri wondered whether he was supposed to be saying something while trying to avoid Viktor's eyes. After a few minutes, the waiter returned with fancy-looking drinks, and Yuuri winced internally. He didn't want to break his rule about not drinking during a competition-- drunk Yuuri near Viktor Nikiforov, now **there** was a disastrous idea-- but he didn't want to look ungrateful, either, when Viktor had been so kind as to order for him. He hadn't even gotten his mouth all the way open when Viktor cut in. "Don't worry, it's non-alcoholic. Virgin cocktails are actually a specialty here. That one's ginger-pomegranate-something, raspberry maybe? I thought you might like it. Mine is lemon mint blueberry with thyme, if you'd rather trade."

Ginger and pomegranate did sound tasty, even if the whole situation was still overwhelming. Yuuri shoved the idea of drinking from the same glass as Viktor (_that Viktor's gorgeous lips would touch_) firmly out of his mind and shook his head. Polite, he could do polite. 

"This sounds lovely, thank you." Yuuri took a sip of his drink; it was in fact delicious, flavorful and tart and not too sweet, exactly the sort of thing he liked. "Um. Good choice, this is excellent." He expected Viktor to respond positively-- however strange it was, that had been the trend of the evening, and Yuuri was at least managing to put up a decent facade of being a functional human being now-- but he certainly wasn't expecting the gigantic heart-shaped smile that he got. Was Viktor that nervous about the food he'd ordered? "I'm sure whatever you got for dinner will be just as good! Thank you!" Yuuri bowed slightly out of nervous habit; Viktor just kept smiling, although the intensity of it thankfully (_tragically! No matter how distracting it is, you could stare at that smile forever and you know it_) faded slowly back to something more normal. There was another awkward pause.

"So, Yuuri! I, hm. Can't talk about how you're doing, probably shouldn't talk about Makkachin, already talked about today's skate..." Viktor's voice had gone quiet as though he were talking to himself, and he was looking away from Yuuri for what felt like the first time all night. Was Viktor.. nervous? Why would Viktor be nervous? He was honoring Yuuri just by letting him stay in his presence! 

After a moment, Viktor looked back up and smiled wryly. "You're not the only one who gets nervous, you know." Was Yuuri that obvious about what he was thinking? Yikes. He hurried to try and put on a more neutral expression than... whatever he had been doing? "Really. I know you think I'm perfect and can do anything"-- Yuuri could feel his ears flaming with embarrassment, Viktor had noticed his hero worship, oh no-- "but I'm as flawed and human as you are, I promise. It just shows up differently. I'm very socially awkward and totally messing up this entire conversation no matter how carefully I tried to plan it, for example; I'm great at the formal interactions where I've got a script to follow and a role to play, but talking to real people, without a clear context, when I actually care about the outcome? I'm still not great at it, even if I'm better than I used to be."

Yuuri was trying to keep his mouth from falling open. **Viktor Nikiforov** was sitting in front of him talking about how **socially awkward he is**? In, to be fair, a fairly awkward way; even Yuuri's idolizing brain couldn't really interpret that last speech as anything other than, well, nervous babble. Informative, open, **vulnerable** nervous babble. Someone else might have taken that as a reason to toss their idol aside, but for Yuuri, this was just one more amazing thing to learn about Viktor, all the more precious for its rarity. Somehow, his imperfections made him even more perfect, because they made him **real**.

"It's ok. I'm not great at it either," he tried, aiming for a sympathetic tone of voice. Did that get across what he wanted? That he understood and didn't mind? And appreciated it? "You were... planning this? Why?" Maybe if they skipped the clearly-failed opening of the conversation, Viktor could fall back to his plan. Phichit did that for Yuuri sometimes, giving him a cue to orient him when things had gone off the rails, and he always appreciated it.

Viktor smiled at him, but his eyes looked sad somehow. "I want to be your friend, even after the GPF. Have us get to know each other. But I'm scared that I'll scare you off." 

Yuuri blinked. Viktor certainly did continue to surprise him, that was for sure. He wanted to say that Viktor couldn't scare him off, but he knew that wasn't true even if he wanted it to be; part of him had been looking for excuses to leave since they'd walked in the restaurant, to hide and pretend this wasn't happening because it was just too much. But the rest...

"**You** want to be **my** friend? But... why?"

Yuuri wasn't entirely sure whether the sound Viktor made should be categorized as a laugh or a sigh. But his smile got a little more geniune. "Aah, Yuuri... someday, hopefully, you'll learn to appreciate yourself. But why would I **not** want to be your friend? You're kind, thoughtful, caring, drop-dead gorgeous" -- W. H. A. T. --" and the most inspirational skater I've ever seen. You love dogs, and skating, and... um." Viktor seemed to notice at this point that he'd lost Yuuri to shock. "The details don't matter, really. You're a wonderful person, Yuuri."

Yuuri was still processing. **Viktor Nikiforov**, voted hottest bachelor in sports for the last three years, thought **he**, dumpy round ordinary Katsuki Yuuri always fighting with his weight, was **gorgeous**? And... **inspirational**? Viktor had inspired Yuuri's entire **career**, Yuuri was still trying and failing to catch up!

"I'm dreaming," he heard himself say faintly, which got another, more intimate heart-shaped smile, a raised eyebrow, and a look that belonged somewhere Yuuri was **not thinking about right now, dammit**.

"Oh, so I'm the man of your dreams, Yuuri?" The voice was worse. Teasing and playful, but definitely a bedroom voice. One part of Yuuri was gleefully storing this moment-- that look, that **voice**, saying Yuuri's **name**\-- in his most precious memories, to be brought out during exactly the kinds of dreams he did **not** want to talk to Viktor about, while another was trying to figure out if it was possible to physically die of embarrassment. He swallowed, hard, and Viktor laughed loudly, breaking the moment. Yuuri really couldn't tell if he was grateful or not. "Sorry, your face. I can't help it, you're so much fun to tease! Forgive me, Yuuri?" Aaand now Viktor Nikiforov was giving him puppy-dog eyes. Big, gorgeous, brilliant blue puppy dog eyes. This was **not fair**. Yuuri leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands in sheer self-defense. "Awwww, Yuuri... you don't have to be embarrassed, I promise. Nothing you could do would keep me from wanting to be yours-- that is, your friend." Viktor's voice was soft and kind, now, and a gentle hand tentatively touched Yuuri's shoulder. The man **just kept getting worse**. (_Better. So, so much better_). How could he keep falling more in love with a man he already loved? And he was **touching Yuuri**...

"You have no idea. I'm very good at embarrassing myself. It's my best skill." Yuuri's reply was muffled by his hands; he couldn't look at Viktor. He was dreaming, clearly, even if he didn't remember falling asleep. This was totally not happening. He might as well be honest with this strange, kind dream-Viktor.

Yuuri wasn't sure what he was expecting from his confession, but a hearty laugh wasn't it. "I disagree about **best** skill, but it doesn't matter. You could pole-dance half-naked and drunk in front of all the sponsors at the official banquet and it would just make for the best night of my life. Besides, I've been known to have a little too much to drink on occasion myself. You'd bring me home safe even if I was naked and refusing to get dressed, right?" Naked Viktor, an image also going straight into the "nope, nope, not now" pile-- in the meantime, **how did Viktor know Yuuri pole-danced**? Or was it just a really good guess? And what a horrific scenario, Yuuri would have to flee and change his name and never leave the onsen again in his life if that ever happened.

Yuuri picked his head up cautiously; Viktor was still smiling. The man seemed to have an entire language of smiles that Yuuri clearly needed to learn; smiles he never used in interviews. Yuuri had thought he'd known what smiling Viktor Nikiforov looked like, but he'd been (_wonderfully, delightfully_) wrong. "Those seem like... oddly specific examples?" He was expecting a joke, or another tease, something about blackmail material maybe? What he wasn't expecting was for the smile to fall off of Viktor's face entirely, replaced by what looked like deep pain and a sharp inhale. Viktor bit his lip and turned away to hide his apparent moment of... something?.. but Yuuri knew all too well what someone trying to discreetly wipe away tears looked like. A skill Yuuri was apparently better at than Viktor, but all that observation did was make him feel worse. Viktor should never **need** that skill, because Viktor shouldn't ever have a reason to cry... and where had that come from all of a sudden, anyway?

"Um. Are you... ok? Do you... want to talk about it?" Yuuri was more used to being on the being comforted side of things than doing the comforting, and he was sure it showed. Viktor shook his head and turned back to face Yuuri, his ever-familiar public smile-- an obviously fake smile in the moment, was it always fake? -- back on his face for a moment. Then his eyes met Yuuri's, and the smile was gone again, replaced by something more honestly sad.

"I've been... having a rough time lately. It's not your fault, you just reminded me of something. Don't worry, I'll cheer up again soon. I can't stay sad for long with you here." The smile that flickered onto Viktor's face was small but genuine.

"It's ok to be sad," Yuuri offered hesitantly. "I don't mind. Don't..." cheer up? Of course he wanted Viktor to cheer up, but only if it was genuine! "don't pretend, just for me."

This time, Viktor let Yuuri see the tears before brushing them away, but the smile was heart-shaped and oh-so-happy and went all the way to his eyes despite the tears as he shook his head. "Katsuki Yuuri, you are and always will be the best thing that ever happens to me."

Yuuri.exe has stopped working.

_What. _

_The. _

_Fuck._

Yuuri's anxiety was gone. Out the window. Silent. Which would have been a nice trick if it weren't for the reason being his entire brain freezing in **utter disbelief**.

"What," he finally managed to get out. Whether it was a statement or a question or just a general expression of utter bewilderment he didn't even know. All of the above, probably.

Viktor's face froze, and then he winced. "I said that out loud, didn't I." Yuuri nodded stiffly, and Viktor let out a long sigh. "Right. Well, I never was very good at subtlety." He straightened up into perfect, formal posture and looked Yuuri directly in the eye. "I should reintroduce myself. My name is Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, and I've come back in time to save your life."

Yuuri didn't even know where to start. Katsuki-Nikiforov? That couldn't possibly mean what it implied, no matter how many times he'd doodled it as a schoolboy. And **time travel**? Time travel wasn't possible! It didn't exist! And if it did, it certainly wouldn't involve world-famous figure skaters, would it?! Yuuri would go back to the "I'm dreaming" hypothesis, except that Yuuri's dreams were never **this** kind of weird. Maybe Viktor was dreaming? Except why would Yuuri be thinking in Viktor's dream, that didn't even make sense. Maybe Viktor... was hallucinating? Suddenly, an impossible evening made much more sense; he wasn't aware of Viktor falling, but head injuries could cause weird behavior, right?

"...Viktor, did you hit your head today? I can call Coach Feltsman..." Yuuri was sure his voice made both his hesitancy and his worry clear. And he **really** hoped it was just a head injury, even if he really didn't want Viktor to be injured; if it wasn't a concussion, it might be something much more serious, and Yuuri didn't even want to think about that. He hadn't heard anything about Viktor having delusions before.

Viktor's eyes widened, and he shook his head fiercely, holding out a quelling hand in emphasis. "No, no! I'm fine, I haven't fallen or anything, and I'm not sick. Don't call Yakov, please! This will be hard enough with just you." Yuuri stopped reaching for his phone reluctantly.

"Just me?"

Viktor shrugged, looking apologetic. "I can prove it to you, or Phichit, your family, a few others; people I've gotten to know well in the future. But Yakov and I know everything about each other now that we will later. And, um. I can't exactly predict the future reliably, since I... accidentally changed it already." Viktor winced.

Yuuri had no idea what to do with any of this, so... he went with it, out of a lack of better ideas. "What do you mean, already changed it?"

Viktor sighed and looked down, clearly embarrassed. "I changed the results of today's skate by accident. I think because you saw me. You... didn't skate as well, last time." Ouch. Although given how Yuuri was feeling before Viktor gave him that thumbs-up and how he dedicated the skate to Viktor in return... it was certainly believable. "I didn't think anything so small would matter. I thought I could just do everything over again the way I had the first time, but... that turns out to be much harder than it sounds." It sounded pretty hard to Yuuri, actually; he had trouble remembering precisely what he'd said earlier the same day. "It was easy enough in St. Petersburg, where my routine was just that, but here... who can remember every place they looked? And once I saw you..." Viktor's voice trailed off.

"Is that why we're talking? Do you want me to... mess up tomorrow, or something, to fix the results?" The thought chilled Yuuri's heart. As though failing in front of Viktor weren't bad enough, for Viktor to tell him he was expecting him to fail, **supposed** to fail... somehow that was worse.

"No! No, of course not! I just..." Viktor fell silent again for a moment. "I was scared I'd lose you."

Yuuri stared at him in confusion. "Why would my skating affect that? And I'm only in fourth place, how bad was I supposed to be? Did you console me over my humiliating loss or something?" Was he believing this? No, of course not, he was just playing along to find out what was going on. (_Yes, look how serious Viktor is. He believes this. And who hits their head and suddenly <s>falls in love with</s> <s>imagines they got married to</s> wants to be friends with a stranger?_)

Viktor smiled sadly, looking down at the table. "Last time, you crashed and burned. Vicchan's death was too much, and the stress ate you alive. You were in fifth after the short programs, which made you even more stressed for the free, and you ended up in sixth place. And rather than realizing how impressive it was that you skated as well as you did under the circumstances, and that you were still sixth in the world, you decided that you were a complete failure." That... was sounding uncomfortably like something Yuuri would do. "You'd been avoiding me the entire weekend, wouldn't even take a photo with me after the ceremony" -- yep, still sounding like Yuuri, why would the loser he'd clearly been think he deserved a photo with Viktor the gold medalist? Because of course Viktor would have won gold, and Yuuri had always dreamed of meeting Viktor on the podium -- "but Celestino made you come to the banquet anyway." Viktor's smile got a bit wider, more cheerful. "You were trying to avoid everyone, and had too much champagne. **Way** too much champagne, I was amazed you were even standing." Oh, no. Yuuri did **not** like the way this was going, especially given Viktor's earlier perhaps-not-so-hypothetical scenarios, and why was Viktor **smiling** about it?

"...and I pole danced? In front of **sponsors**?" That sounded disturbingly like something his father would do, if his father could pole dance. And like a spectacular end to Yuuri's not-very-impressive career. He could feel his cheeks heating up in humiliation at the very thought.

Viktor looked up at him then, grinning widely, voice cheerful and enthusiastic. "And pole danced in front of sponsors! With Chris! Both of you half-naked. But first you had a dance-off with Yurio-- Yuri Plisetsky, that is-- and totally trounced him. You were amazing, Yuuri! Most people aren't that good a dancer sober! And then you danced with me, and it was the most fun I'd had in years. And you asked me to be your coach." By this point, Yuuri was starting to hunch over in mortification on behalf of his supposed future self.

"My **coach**? You must have been so insulted... not to mention Celestino..."

"On the contrary, I was flattered! You'd be amazed how few people ever wanted me for anything other than my gold medals or my fame, and we'd danced so well together. It was... clear that coaching wasn't all you were looking for." Viktor smirked, and wasn't that ominous. Just what had Yuuri done? Hypothetically... "More importantly, it gave me something to look towards in the future besides my retirement. Everyone had been after me for years by then, wondering when I was going to retire; and I was tired of the ice, Yuuri. Tired of everything." Viktor's voice had gone quiet and serious, and Yuuri straightened in shock. Viktor Nikiforov, tired of the **ice**? What had happened? "But I didn't want to give the vultures the satisfaction, and I was scared of what would happen next. I didn't have anything in my life besides the ice and Makkachin, Yuuri, and I didn't know who I was without the ice. You gave me hope. And then... you fell off of the face of the earth and didn't contact me for **months**. As far as we knew, you bombed Japanese nationals and vanished. I thought you hated me, or that I read you wrong; that you didn't actually care, and were just enjoying the party and the beautiful people, and had gone on to seduce someone else." Yuuri's eyes widened in horror, and he opened his mouth to deny the very possibility, but Viktor was still talking. "As it turned out, you had been so drunk you blacked out and didn't remember the banquet at all, and you'd spilled water all over the note I left you with my number before you saw it. As far as you knew, the only interaction we'd had was you turning down a photo."

_You hurt Viktor. You **abandoned** Viktor. How could you do that? No matter what the circumstances were?_ The Yuuri in this story, who wasn't him, and yet... he was finding himself far more drawn in than he wanted to be, especially given how uncomfortable it was.

"You ended your season, finished school, went back to Hasetsu. You broke things off with Celestino and were considering quitting skating entirely. And then... you skated Stammi Vicino for Yuuko." Viktor was smiling now, looking into space and clearly lost in memory. Wait-- Yuuko? How would Viktor even have heard of Yuuko if this wasn't true? "You'd been doing it just for fun, to remind yourself why you loved skating, but the triplets recorded it and put it online. And I saw it, and how beautifully you skated it, and how much love you'd put into a program of mine. It was a message, I thought, so I went to Japan to be your coach." Now the grin was back, and Viktor was looking straight at Yuuri with eyes full of mischief. "And then the fun part started. But... I think I was telling you this for a reason? What was it?"

It took Yuuri a minute to remember what had actually triggered that long, fascinating (_disturbing_) story. "I wanted to know why my score changing would mean losing me," he whispered, still uncertain of how to react. _And why you would care, but I don't have the nerve to ask that. I don't know that I could handle the answer._

"Ah, right." Viktor shrugged. "You only approached me then because you were so drunk; you admitted you'd never have had the nerve otherwise. And you only got that drunk because you thought you'd lost so very badly. I was afraid that if you felt better about your performance-- which you should, you were beautiful today despite everything-- you wouldn't start drinking and wouldn't find the courage to talk to me, let alone dance with me. So... I asked you to dinner first, to make sure we at least talked. I, um. Hadn't intended to tell you all of this, but I am not very good at not talking, especially not talking to you. If you can't tell." Viktor winked and grinned. Yuuri couldn't even find it in himself to make note of this new and different Viktor grin; his brain was still stuck somewhere back between "time travel", "drunken humiliation" and "**Viktor** worried about losing **me**", and his thoughts were jumbled and incoherent. He probably looked as shell-shocked as he felt, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about that, either. _An hour ago, you'd have been terrified of Viktor seeing you as confused as you are. Didn't you know it can always get worse?_ an inner voice mocked.

Eventually Yuuri's silence must have gotten through to Viktor, because the grin slowly fell off of his face and was replaced with concern. "Um. Yuuri? Did I break you? ...crap, I broke you, didn't I. Too much. Why am I always too much? At least I'm not naked this time, right?" Yuuri thought that last was intended as a joke, given Viktor's tone. 'This time' implied that there had been another time when there **had** been a naked Viktor, and... some future Yuuri would probably be (had probably been?) screaming about that, but Yuuri of now could barely note that he should probably have been interested. "OK. OK. One overwhelmed Yuuri who is probably on the verge of a panic attack, and... one Viktor who can't help because Yuuri doesn't trust him yet and it's his fault anyway." Viktor's shoulders slumped, but he looked determined. "We can do this, don't worry. Oh! Phichit should be up, you can talk to him! It's probably a bit too public for you outside, but they have stalls in the restroom here, so you can hide if you want while you process everything. I promise, I don't mind, I understand. And I'll have them keep your dinner warm if need be. How does that sound? Is that a plan?"

Yuuri blinked at Viktor. He was certainly right about the looming panic attack, and... that actually sounded like a remarkably good coping plan, under the circumstances. By the time the shock wore off and panic set in, he'd be by himself and hopefully already in contact with Phichit. _It's almost like he knows you. Funny, that._ "Yeah. Sure. Um. Thanks?" Yuuri got awkwardly to his feet, belatedly catching the napkin that fell off his lap and folding it neatly out of habit before putting it back on the table. As he turned to go, Viktor caught his hand.

"I'm here for you, Yuuri. Whatever you need. Just remember that." There was a gentle squeeze, and the warm fingers slipped away again. Yuuri bobbed his head and made his way to his awkward temporary sanctuary, pulling his phone out.

**Yuuri:**Phichit  
  
**Yuuri:**Phichit, are you there?  
  


He started and deleted several incoherent sentences before a reply popped up.

**Phichit:**Yuuuri! What's up? Congrats on fourth place, the podium's in sight!  
  
**Yuuri:**anxious  
  
**Yuuri:**oh right that was today  
  
**Phichit:**Uh (Raised Eyebrow)  
  
**Phichit:**If you're not anxious about the skate, what is it?  
  


Yuuri took a deep breath and decided he might as well just go for it. It's not like delaying was going to make the situation make any more sense.

**Yuuri:**Viktor Nikiforov says he's my future husband   
  
**Phichit:** !!!!  
  
**Phichit:**(Party Popper) (Fireworks) (Confetti Ball)  
  
**Phichit:**Yuuri! Look at you, getting your man! When's the wedding?  
  
**Phichit:**(Smirking Face) Told you he'd fall for you  
  
**Yuuri:**No, you don't get it  
  
**Yuuri:**I didn't do anything  
  
**Yuuri:**he says he's my husband   
  
**Yuuri:**from the future  
  
**Yuuri:**time travel  
  
**Yuuri:**he has stories  
  
**Yuuri:**and he knows things he shouldn't  
  


Dots were jumping in and out as Phichit clearly hesitated on formulating a response. Yuuri paused as a thought occured to him. Other than Vicchan's death, most of the suprising references Viktor had oh-so-casually dropped were parts of his life and personality Phichit knew quite well...

**Yuuri:**...are you conspiring with Viktor to prank me?  
  
**Yuuri:**please be conspiring with Viktor  
  
**Yuuri:**that would make sense  
  
**Phichit:**(Frowning Face)No way  
  
**Phichit:**I wouldn't do that  
  
**Phichit:**...ok, I would, but not with **Viktor**, I know how much he means to you  
  
**Phichit:**Besides, if I had Viktor's contact information, do you really think I wouldn't have given it to you?  
  
**Phichit:**(Face with Raised Eyebrow) So Viktor Nikiforov is a time traveller from the future?  
  
**Yuuri:**that's what he says  
  
**Phichit:**Is _that_ why he knows so many quads? (Exploding Head)  
  
**Phichit:**And you're married in the future?  
  
**Yuuri:**supposedly  
  
**Yuuri:**not the quads the marriage  
  
**Yuuri:**I don't even  
  
**Yuuri:**what do I do?  
  
**Phichit:**...cheer for fantasies coming true and enjoy the heck out of life?  
  
**Phichit:**Unless he's a jerk in person  
  
**Phichit:**In which case you tell me and we will (Oncoming Fist)take care of the problem.  
  
**Phichit:**I don't care if he is Viktor Nikiforov, if he's giving my Yuuri a hard time, he'll suffer the consequences.  
  
**Yuuri:**No, he's really nice actually  
  
**Yuuri:**So nice  
  
**Yuuri:**Amazingly nice  
  
**Yuuri:**i just  
  
**Yuuri:**_he says he's my husband_  
  
**Yuuri:****Viktor.**  
  
**Yuuri:****Nikiforov.**  
  
**Yuuri:**maybe he's delusional  
  
**Yuuri:**I hope he's delusional  
  
**Yuuri:**I mean I don't but I do  
  
**Yuuri:**But what if he isn't?  
  
**Phichit:** Still going with "this is completely awesome, and you should finish your freakout by cheering madly" (Beaming Face with Smiling Eyes)  
  
**Phichit:**Come on, this is a romance for the ages! (Sparkling Heart)  
  
**Phichit:**Travelling back in time to see his lover! (Smiling Cat with Heart Eyes)  
  
**Phichit:**...wait, did he say why he came back in time?  
  
**Yuuri:**No, he didn't

Yuuri paused. Wait a minute... What was that sentence that had turned everything upside down? "I am Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov and I've come back in time to save your life"? He'd totally missed that at the time...

**Yuuri:**Um.  
  
**Phichit:**Yuuriiii.....(Unamused Face)\   
  
**Yuuri:**He may have said something about saving my life  
  
**Yuuri:**But he had just called himself Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov  
\  
**Yuuri:**And I didn't believe him, and there were other things to worry about   
  
**Yuuri:**So I kind of forgot  
  
**Phichit:** !!!! (Worried Face)(Worried Face)(Worried Face)  
  
**Phichit:**Yuuuuuriiiiiii! That's _important_!  
  
**Phichit:**Though knowing you, totally believable  
  
**Phichit:**For one thing, this is _definitely_ a romance for the ages, and I want in on the movie version  
  
**Phichit:**But did he say _when_? How? Are you OK? Did he save you already?  
  


Yuuri's stomach dropped. He hadn't. Was he supposed to choke to death tonight and Viktor was going to save him? No, wait, Viktor had said they hadn't even had this dinner before, he was talking about things that had happened (would have happened?) months in the future. It couldn't be tonight. And Viktor hadn't sounded worried... about Yuuri's health or life, anyway. So it probably wasn't soon.

**Phichit:**Oh! I know! We'll call it _The Ice King and the Skater_! It'll be great. With musical numbers!  
  
**Yuuri:**What?  
  
**Phichit:**Your movie.  
  
**Phichit:**Sorry, the idea just struck  
  
**Phichit:**Anyway, what's up with the important stuff?  
  
**Yuuri:**I don't know? He didn't seem stressed about it?  
  
**Yuuri:**So hopefully not soon?  
  
**Phichit:**Maybe he already did?  
  
**Yuuri:**Then how would we have met? Which we were apparently supposed to do at the banquet  
  
**Yuuri:**The GPF one that hasn't happened yet  
  
**Yuuri:**this is so confusing  
  
**Phichit:**Clearly you should ask  
  
**Phichit:**And if you get Viktor Nikiforov as your personal bodyguard I reserve the right to post photos  
  


That was not a twinge of jealousy Yuuri was feeling. Nope. He had no problems sharing Viktor, Viktor wasn't his to share. (_Not yet, anyway._) Besides, it's not like he couldn't get all the photos he wanted, in that hypothetical future...

**Yuuri:** I honestly can't decide if that's more or less disturbing than the marriage idea  
  
**Yuuri:**I mean, he doesn't have to like me as much, which makes sense, but... Viktor Nikiforov, personal bodyguard to a second-rate skater? What?  
  
**Yuuri:**Also why would he know how to fight?  
  
**Phichit:**_Future_, Yuuri, you're not thinking widely enough about the possibilities here!  
  
**Phichit:**(And you are not second-rate, don't think I missed that (Unamused Face))  
  
**Phichit:**For all you know, he's now Viktor Nikiforov, Licensed to Kill (Smiling Face With Sunglasses)  
  
**Phichit:**I was going to say International Man of Mystery but he's got most of that covered already  
  


Yuuri couldn't help but laugh at that. How was Phichit so good at making him laugh at the worst times?

**Yuuri:**Why are you taking this so calmly?  
  
**Phichit:**Why not? It's like my favorite stories.  
  
**Phichit:**Romance! Adventure! A touch of the weird! Snarky best friends!  
  
**Phichit:**if it's real I'm enjoying myself and can do whatever freaking out feels appropriate later  
  
**Phichit:**If it's not real I'm _still_ enjoying myself and can deal with the fallout later  
  
**Phichit:**Might as well roll with it! 

Yuuri huffed out another laugh, feeling his shoulders start to relax from their hunched-up tension. He wished he had Phichit's knack for seeing the bright side of things instead of all of the things to worry about, but at least he could borrow it. Talking to him had clearly been a good idea.

A good idea Viktor had suggested. It was dawning on Yuuri that if the man of his dreams knew him well enough to know how to recognize and preempt a panic attack, that meant he knew about Yuuri's panic attacks, and apparently didn't mind. He'd always assumed that if Viktor found out about his anxiety, he'd completely dismiss Yuuri as weak and unworthy. Where did that leave his other assumptions?

**Yuuri:**What do I do?  
  
**Yuuri:**I can barely talk to him.  
  
**Phichit:**(Smirking Face) Kiss him? (Kissing Face with Smiling Eyes)(Kissing Face with Smiling Eyes)(Kissing Face with Smiling Eyes)  
  


Yuuri could feel his cheeks heating up.

**Yuuri:**Phichit!!!  
  
**Phichit:**Well, you wouldn't have to talk to him!  
  
**Phichit:**But seriously, when are you seeing him next?  
  


Yuuri winced, anticipating Phichit's inevitable reaction.

**Yuuri:**Um  
  
**Yuuri:**As soon as I leave the bathroom?  
  
**Phichit:**(Unamused Face)Yuuri.  
  
**Phichit:**Yuuri, are you _texting me_ while _Viktor Nikiforov_ is out there _waiting for you_?  
  
**Yuuri:**I was panicking  
  
**Yuuri:**He told me to  
  
**Yuuri:**He said he'd keep my food warm  
  
**Phichit:**...You're having dinner with Viktor.  
  
**Phichit:**You're texting me during a _date_ with Viktor.  
  
**Phichit:**Yuuri.  
  
**Yuuri:**It's not a date!  
  
**Yuuri:**I think  
  
**Phichit:**(Person Facepalming)Yuuri, get off the phone and get back out there before he thinks you've died in there! Or snuck out the window!  
  
**Phichit:**What did he actually tell you to do? Go hide in the bathroom because you were panicking?  
  
**Yuuri:**...no. Go talk to you, because I was panicking. He thought it would help.  
  
**Yuuri:** He suggested the bathroom because it would be quiet.  
  
**Phichit:**Seriously?  
  
**Phichit:**I like him already, he's clearly sensible if he sees my value  
  
**Phichit:**Wait, he actually said to talk to _me_? Viktor Nikiforov knows I exist?  
  
**Yuuri:**Apparently?  
  
**Phichit:**Awesome!  
  
**Phichit:**...but of course he'd know me, I'll bet I was best man at your wedding.  
  
**Phichit:**(I _will_ be best man at your wedding, right? (Upside Down Face))  
  


Yuuri laughed. He hadn't exactly been thinking about wedding plans, what with the Grand Prix and Vicchan, not to mention the complete lack of romance in his life...

...Vicchan. He hadn't thought about Vicchan in ages. He suddenly felt guilty for actually having fun, and **laughing**, when Vicchan was still dead. It had been such a distracting evening...

**Yuuri:**Sure.  
  
**Yuuri:**So... I should probably go back.  
  
**Phichit:**If you're feeling better? Hell yes. Go get him!  
  
**Phichit:**Remember, _he_ was the one telling _you_ you were married, so he clearly wants you!  
  
**Phichit:**And if he's devoted enough to time travel for you, it clearly worked out!  
  
**Phichit:**You can do it, Yuuri!!! I want that wedding invitation!  
  


Phichit was right. Viktor had approached **him**. Wanted to spend time with **him**. Even though he'd apparently seen Yuuri at his worst. The man he'd spent half his life aiming for had stepped down from his pedestal, just for him.

He could do this.

\-----------------

Viktor was reading on his phone when Yuuri came out of the bathroom, but was clearly keeping an eye out; he looked up as soon as Yuuri stepped into the main room and waved a signal of some kind to the waiter before turning back to watch Yuuri's approach. As Yuuri got closer, apparently Viktor noticed **something**, because his expression went from cautious hope to something huge and bright and joyful, his smile seeming to take up half of his face, eyes lighting up.

"You seem happy about something," Yuuri couldn't help but comment as he sat back down. 

The grin just got wider. How was that even possible?

"You're wearing your determined look! I love that look, it always means something exciting and wonderful is going to happen."

Yuuri blinked. "I have a determined look?"

Viktor turned the smile brightness down to something a little more normal and nodded enthusiastically. "You do. When you decide you really want something and you're going to go for it no matter what stands in your way. It's my favorite Yuuri look! Well, except for the loving look, and the sexy look, and the mischievous look, and... I'm babbling again, aren't I." Yuuri nodded, torn between blushing and laughing. A married Viktor would know what a sexy Yuuri look was, he supposed, but Yuuri could admit he was wildly curious himself, since he didn't think he'd ever pulled off such a thing or ever would. "I can't help it! My Yuuri is just so adorable!"

Viktor paused and winced, bubbly smile falling away. "I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I know you're not my Yuuri, and I don't mean to pressure you, I just... have trouble remembering sometimes. You look so much like him." The clear blue eyes were avoiding Yuuri now, and those lovely long-fingered hands were fidgeting nervously with the silverware. Seeing Viktor so uncertain hurt, especially so soon after seeing what Viktor looked like actually **happy**. 

The awkward moment was temporarily interrupted by dinner arriving, allowing both of them to busy themselves with food for a little while.

"This is very good, you were right that I'd like it," Yuuri ventured after a few bites, hoping to unblight the conversation. "I suppose you'd have a good idea what I like, after... how long were we together?"

Viktor looked up almost shyly. "Just over ten years. The best years of my life."

Well, that certainly implied that either whatever Viktor was saving his life from was a good long way away, or he'd stumbled into some kind of multiple-time-traveller drama where someone else was trying to kill him, which seemed awfully unlikely. _Of course, **one** time traveller seemed pretty unlikely this morning. Not that he's proved it yet, no matter how much you like his story,_ whispered Yuuri's practical brain. Yuuri ignored it.

"Can I ask what happened? I... assume that's when I, um. Died?" That was awkward, but given the subject, that was probably a given. Viktor nodded sadly and put his fork down.

"There was an earthquake. A bad one, in the middle of the night. It caused a tsunami. Most of the low-lying parts of Hasetsu were destroyed. You... didn't make it out." Viktor closed his eyes briefly, looking pained; Yuuri stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt. "I was in Tokyo with one of our students, doing sponsor meetings and negotiations. And... planning our anniversary." Tears were dripping down Viktor's face now, unsurprisingly. Not knowing what else to do, Yuuri offered Viktor his napkin. _That's stupid, he already has one if he wanted it, why give him yours?_ his brain sneered, but Viktor took it gently and with a grateful smile, dabbing at his face. "It was bad. The warnings went out, but there was so little time, and so much damage that the evacuation routes were half-blocked. A lot of people didn't make it."

Yuuri swallowed. "Who else?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he couldn't help but ask.

Viktor looked at him sadly. "Really?" Yuuri nodded hesitantly. "Papa Katsuki" --_He calls tousan Papa Katsuki? That's adorable_, Yuuri couldn't help but think despite the chilling context-- "had had a stroke the year before, and had trouble walking. It probably slowed them down. And Yu-Topia was right in the path of the wave." Yuuri's napkin was becoming damp with Viktor's tears, and he was wondering if maybe he should have thought about not having one himself before he asked that question. It was far too easy to imagine his mother helping his father, stressing about how long it was taking... had Mari still lived there then? "Takeshi made it through along with two of the girls, holding on to lampposts, but Yuuko and Axel were swept away. Our other students... we'd taken one of the shuttered onsens, near Yu-Topia, and turned it into a small live-in skating club. A lot of the neighbors... Saito-san, the Hashimotos, Arita-san who ran the ice cream stand..." Viktor sighed. "I could probably rememember most of the list if I tried, but your family and the Nishigoris are the ones that matter most to you now, I think." 

Yuuri shuddered. "Mari too?" Viktor just nodded. 

"Minako was fine; her apartment building was tall and sturdy. Ice Castle itself was flooded, but missed the worst of the damage. But... it was bad. It was very bad."

Yuuri closed his eyes. Earthquakes were routine in Japan, and they had the best safety regulations and engineering in the world to deal with them, but no amount of preparation could completely eliminate the risk of natural disasters. It had just been-- would just be?-- bad luck, random tragedy. But it was all too easy to imagine.

"So you came back to warn us? How?"

Viktor shrugged. "Eventually. It took a while. The first years after were... bad. But I survived, and took up coaching back in Russia. There were some scientists at one of the universities who had grand ideas but couldn't get funding, they were too out there. They asked me, and I had plenty of money I wasn't using, especially after all of the insurance... It was a mad gamble, but I...." He fell silent for a moment, staring at his plate. "You have to realize, Yuuri, I've struggled with depression for most of my adult life, even if I didn't realize that was the problem until you made me get help. Without you... I wasn't doing the best job of taking care of myself. I was willing to do anything, try anything, if it had even the slightest chance of getting you back."

"Viktor," Yuuri whispered in horror-filled sympathy. He'd had friends in Detroit with major depression, he could read between the lines; if there weren't suicide attempts hidden behind Viktor's story, there was certainly an awful lot of suicidal ideation. And all too much misery. Suddenly, it didn't matter that Viktor Nikiforov should never have cared so much about Yuuri; all that mattered was that he should never have to go through that terrible experience again.

Viktor looked up and put on a fragile smile, genuine but small. "I haven't had the chance to set it up since I got here, since I've only been here a couple of months and was scrambling to get back to competition readiness, but I promise, I'm going back to therapy as soon as the final is over. I'll be OK. And... the crazy experiments **worked**. I'm here. You're here. We can stop all of the horrors from happening again; find a way to evacuate Hasetsu before the quake. It'll be OK, this time around."

Yuuri couldn't resist leaning forward to grab one of Viktor's hands and squeeze it comfortingly. Viktor's smile grew a little larger, and Yuuri felt his own echoing it, gaze caught in the blue-green eyes looking at him so intently. _How can he be so beautiful even when crying?_ "We'll make sure of it."

After another moment of silent support, Yuuri's back twinged in objection to the awkward position he'd found himself in, draped unevenly across the table around the dinner plates, and he reluctantly let go of Viktor's hand to sit back up and stretch. Viktor looked down at the damp napkin in his other hand, pursed his lips, and passed Yuuri the relatively clean napkin in his own lap in trade. "We should finish eating before it gets totally cold," Viktor commented, picking up his fork and digging in with another smile Yuuri's way, and Yuuri followed suit. His meatballs were definitely approaching lukewarm, but they were still tasty, and at least grilled vegetables were good at any temperature. He was honestly a little surprised that he was coherent enough to be noticing any details of his meal; apparently somewhere during Viktor's tragic story Yuuri's brain had finally shaken off his earlier shock --although why that would be the case, Yuuri wasn't sure; maybe the focus moving away from his relationship with Viktor helped? Brains were weird-- and gotten back in touch with the world around him. Which was nice, honestly, despite the surreal circumstances.

Which reminded him that although at this point he had to admit that he believed Viktor-- his story was just too coherent, and too emotional, and too full of little details to be made up-- he didn't actually have, well, proof. A Russian skater knowing about the lady who ran the ice cream stand by the beach in Hasetsu every summer was certainly **unlikely**, but it wasn't quite **proof.**

"So, on a hopefully more cheerful note... you said earlier that you could prove the time travel? I mean, I believe you, but I'm curious... what did you have in mind?"

Of all of the responses Yuuri was expecting, a vivid blush was not anywhere on the list, even if the mischievous look that went with it made more sense.

"Well... the challenge, you see, is that all of the things I **know** you haven't told anyone else are, well. Embarrassing. Otherwise at least one of Phichit or Mari would know about them. And **I** certainly don't mind talking about them, but, well. You might?"

That? That was not good in an **entirely different way** than the prior topic. And yet, Yuuri wasn't as worried as he should have been, having a near-stranger knowing his darkest secrets. Viktor had somehow wormed his way into Yuuri's trust with remarkable speed. _ He's been so openly vulnerable with you, how could you not return his trust and meet him halfway?_ A less helpful internal voice added _And it's Viktor. You would take any excuse to be closer to him and you know it._ But did that make his feelings any less valid? Yuuri was almost curious now, even though he'd probably regret it, and clearly **Viktor** didn't find whatever these secrets were to be problematic enough to give up on Yuuri.

"Like what?" Viktor, finished with his food, leaned back and pressed one finger to his lips in what was apparently a standard gesture for him, before grinning and leaning forward again.

"Well, there was the one about the poster of me in my free skate costume from the GP series when I was eighteen. 'Your bi awakening', I think you called it?" The grin got wider, and Viktor's eyes gleamed. "The one you put over your bed, and then had to replace due to.... shall we say... splash damage?" Oh god. Yuuri had almost forgotten about that. He'd certainly wanted to. He'd **told Viktor** about that? Proof enough, Yuuri had definitely never breathed a word about it. "As a result of which, the replacement got put up all the way across the room to prevent recurrence. You told Mari that you'd tripped and spilled water on it." Yuuri hid his flaming face in his hands, and Viktor laughed. "I told you you'd think it was embarrassing. **I** thought it was cute!"

"Why did I tell you about **that**?" Yuuri asked mournfully. "Couldn't you have just, I don't know, memorized next week's lottery numbers like all the **normal** time travellers do in stories, rather than hauling out my teenage shame?"

"For the first, we were drunk. And having a friendly argument about which of us was sexiest. You pulled that out as a trump card, claiming it proved it was me." Viktor grinned. "Although I most certainly did not concede." Yuuri tried to imagine a future version of himself actively trying to persuade Viktor Nikiforov that yes, he really was that sexy, let alone Viktor trying to return the favor. He couldn't... but he found that he really, really wanted to. He'd never imagined being that comfortable with **anyone**; not even Phichit, his closest friend who knew so many of his secrets. "For the second-- we didn't actually know when I'd end up. If it worked at all, which we weren't sure of. I was the first human test subject, it seemed fair trade for my funding. I could hardly memorize a lottery number for every day for years; I have enough trouble with my own phone number! And it seemed more worthwhile to make sure I had all of my programs fresh in my mind, just in case I landed in that season."

Yuuri blinked. "You had **no idea** when you were going to end up?" Viktor shrugged.

"Nope. We tried to make sure I'd be earlier rather than later, to make sure that I'd be before the tsunami. I'd been hoping, probably obviously, for the period we were together, but... this way I don't miss anything, so perhaps I shouldn't complain. A few months of loneliness is worth it, and I was braced for years, if necessary. Although I admit I was **really** hoping not to have to go through puberty again." Yuuri couldn't help but laugh, and Viktor beamed at him.

"So... I take it it's just your mind that travelled?" Viktor nodded.

"Entirely apart from the inevitable issues with proving my identity that would arise, the energy required to send information back is bad enough. Objects, let alone people, were apparently not even a remote possibility. If you want more than that, ask the physicists, it's beyond me. I suppose you're technically talking to a brainscan of future Viktor, but I feel like me and philosophy's not really my cup of tea, so I don't really care."

Yuuri blinked. "So... there's another Viktor in the future? How do they know if it worked? Is the future even still there, if you can change things?" Viktor shrugged again and grinned.

"No idea! And it's not my problem!" The waiter interrupted at that point to deliver the check, and Yuuri eyed it in sudden apprehension. He'd completely forgotten his worries about the cost of dinner. "Don't even think about it, Yuuri. This is my treat." Yuuri glanced up at Viktor in surprise; Viktor was gazing at him in obvious amusement.

"I can pay!" It was just a matter of ramen volume, after all...

"Yuuri, do you really think I'd invite you to dinner at a nice restaurant, drop all of **that** on your head, and then expect you to pay? I like to think I'm more of a gentleman than that, even if I didn't have a very good idea of our relative budgets at this point in time. My treat, I insist. If you really want, you can buy me coffee later."

Later. Viktor was basically laying an invitation for another date out on a platter for Yuuri to take. (Had this even been a date? Yuuri had no idea, but he didn't know what **else** to call it.) He thought back to his conversation with Phichit and his resolution; then thought about the open, kind, hurting man in front of him. "I'd love to. Tomorrow?" Viktor beamed.

The air outside was chilly, but Viktor pulled Yuuri close to his side as soon as Yuuri nodded acceptance of the gesture, warming both his body and his heart.

"Yuuri... I wanted to offer." Viktor's voice was quiet and cautious as they walked back to the hotel. "You don't have to accept, obviously. But if you think it would help to talk about Vicchan, I'd be happy to listen. Tonight, or later. When Makka passed, looking at pictures and telling stories about how wonderful she was helped me a lot, to remind me of all of the good things instead of just my guilt and grief. I know you barely know me, but... I'm here for you, if you need me. For anything."

Yuuri had stiffened at the mention of Vicchan's name-- how had he managed to forget, **again**?-- but the more he thought about it, the better Viktor's suggestion sounded. He'd originally planned to hide in his room all night, trying to suppress his grief and stress about the free skate-- oh, right, the GPF was still happening, wasn't it, despite Yuuri's world turning upside down, he'd forgotten that for a while too-- but here was someone who clearly understood how important a dog could be, who had spent the whole evening refusing to judge Yuuri or his future self, offering nothing but a willing ear if he wanted it. And being so careful to **offer**, not push, as though he knew how uncomfortable Yuuri was --of course he did-- with people assuming he needed help. Letting Yuuri have his space and independence, while offering acceptance and kindness in return.

Offering... love.

"That sounds like a good idea, actually," Yuuri finally replied. "And Viktor?" 

"Hm?" Viktor looked down to meet Yuuri's eyes.

>

"If you really do want me to be **your** Yuuri... I think I'd be willing to give that a try."

Viktor's eyes went wide, and his steps stuttered to a halt. "Really? Are you sure?" Viktor's voice was soft and tentative, as though he was afraid that Yuuri might change his mind, and Yuuri nodded firmly. "Can I hug you?" Another nod, and Yuuri was folded into long arms and pulled close. It was nothing like any of Yuuri's fantasies, on a random Russian street full of closed shops and sticker-covered street signs, coats in the way and the temperature a good ten degrees colder than was comfortable without gloves. And yet.

Viktor's chin rested gently on top of Yuuri's head; the Russian was trembling ever-so-slightly, almost certainly in tears or fighting it, and held Yuuri as though he never wanted to let go. Yuuri leaned his own head into Viktor's chest, breathing in his unfamiliar but comforting scent, and wrapped his own arms securely around Viktor in return. It was a perfect imperfect moment, and Yuuri half-wished it would never end. _But if it never ends, you'll never find out where the story goes._ Romance? Love, the kind his parents had, real love that sees faults and refuses to waver, with the man he'd been more than half in love with since childhood? Marriage, perhaps even a family some day? Skating with Viktor in a true partnership, for life? Perhaps even a world record or two?

Yuuri couldn't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-off that contains the complete plot arc, but given how popular a lot of other running-indefinitely-just-because-time-travel-slice-of-life-is-fun fics there are out there, I'd be curious whether anyone other than me would enjoy reading the various followon scenes that this inevitably spawned in my head. I've got another high-plot long fic in the works, so I won't be aiming to create any more grand epics right now, but there's some good solid plot-free fluff here if people enjoy that sort of thing.
> 
> I'm still learning to write proper fiction, and always appreciate feedback, especially detailed constructive feedback, to help me improve. Comments and kudos tell me to keep writing.
> 
> (And if you're actually interested in teaching me the sort of editing skills required to figure out *how* to be a bit less wordy and still convey what I want to convey... well, let me know, I know that's a weak spot of mine. ;) )


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